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pregnancy

I wasn’t planning on sharing this but sometimes, I really feel like bursting at the seams.

Most of the miscarriage stories I’ve read are sad indeed, but I find that many of them were written long after the occurrence. Emotional and physical healing are more apparent and there’s a greater sense of hope in the words. However, I am sharing from the depth and it may come off as dark, but that’s the reality of it.

In November of last year, I found out I was about 4-5 weeks pregnant, I can’t remember. At around 8 weeks, we went to the ob/gyn to confirm and the PA said the embryo looked like it was smaller than expected and that I was only 6 weeks along. I already had a feeling that something was wrong because I was tracking correctly even though she suggested I might have not. On Dec 9, the day before my birthday, I found out that the baby no longer had a heartbeat. I was about 9 weeks pregnant at the time. The PA kept using the word “ominous” which I found… interesting. In this type of situation, there are 3 options: you can pass it naturally, you can have meds to induce it, or you can have surgery. I opted for the first option because I just didn’t want my body to get any more messed up than it already was. It’s crazy how immediately your body changes upon conception.

Terry wanted to share with the sad news with our family and close friends which was fine with me. What I told him to include when sharing with them was NOT to contact me. It’s not that I needed time to heal or that I wasn’t ready to share. It’s just that I didn’t want to deal with people’s stupid comments, plain and simple. Even despite this, I still got comments like “I heard it’s easier to conceive after a miscarriage” or “you guys were trying?” (which is totally beside the point). I know people have good intentions but I can’t even imagine what other comments would come my way.

Everyone tells you that miscarriage is sad. No one tells you that it is one of the most physically painful experiences, next to actual labor or being tortured, I’M ASSUMING. During the week of NYE, there were 2 separate instances where I sat on the toilet for 1.5 hours while my body tried to expel the blood clots and the gestational sac. At one point, I felt “contractions” every 2 minutes. When the sac finally came out, I didn’t want to stare at it, name it, bury it, or whatever sentimental acts people do. I looked at it, poked it, and flushed it down the toilet. I think I was angry.

Some people say that when you start trying and/or after you’ve experienced a miscarriage, it makes you want a baby even more. For me, that’s how I initially felt for maybe one week. Now I’m at the point where I am in no rush to be pregnant again. Perhaps there is still some trauma or maybe I just feel that I have a second chance to wait. I know Terry still wants to try again and while that does make me feel conflicted, I know he will wait until I’m ready.

When I talk to people about it, I don’t really cry or show any signs of sadness. Actually, I might have cried all my tears out when I coincidentally started watching Korean dramas around the same time. Random fact: I have watched 9 Korean dramas (16-20 episodes per drama, 1-hour episodes) since December. That’s a lot of TV.

While no one can determine the exact cause of an early miscarriage, sometimes I feel like I caused it. I ate raw fish, I sipped some alcohol, I did hot yoga, I drank coffee, I ate deli meats. Most of these things are actually allowed in moderation (I still laugh when people avoid dipping communion bread in the wine) but I’m just mentioning them for people who want to and have asked me “did the doctor say you did something wrong?”.

Physically, my body is back to normal. Emotionally, I do get annoyed when I find out someone is pregnant. Life always seems easier for other people even though I know that is not true. Right now, people are constantly tip-toeing around me in conversation: “Hey let’s go all out before everyone gets… uh… before life is over!” And then there are people who don’t know and ask if we’re trying. This is when I feel most comfortable telling them about the miscarriage because it is an immediate conversation ender.

Amidst these dark times is bright, baby Terry (he hates it when I call him that). His support and patience is really a gift to our marriage. He doesn’t criticize me or push me to do anything. He knows that I value my space and freedom to think and react in my own way so he just lets me be. Occasionally, he’ll just try to back-hug me, like in Korean dramas, but I just kick him in the shins. He’s a great husband.

P.S. Last week, I found out my dad’s cancer has come back. When it rains, it shits a storm.